Things Done Wrong
by kittymchale
Summary: Where had Mike let his life go? How could he have let such a beautiful thing take a nose dive into a bottomless pit of wallowing? Read and Review, my friends!
1. Memories

**okay! hello everybody! what's up on this fine evening? this idea/prompt/thingy was given to me by my brain twin, Shadesz, so thank that genius/life-maker/clown(haha). i hope you enjoy this, my lovely little turtles.**

Best friends forever.

The words echoed in my head as I saw my once best friend, dripping with slushie in front of me. The cherry flavored ice dripped lazily down Rachel's dress, soaking the white fabric, the empty cup burning in my hand. My head pounded with regret, my heart smashing against my chest. A group of worthless, hairy jocks cheered around me, slapping each other's hands and shaking with laughter. Rachel's face was shocked, mouth dropping open, blazing chocolate-colored eyes staring straight ahead. For a split second, she was disappointed, her eyes burning into mine. Guilt surged through me as I dropped the cup on the ground, splattering the rest of the slushie everywhere. Rachel's expression warped and twisted painfully, hurt and surprised. Angry tears flowed quickly, embarrassed, squeaking sobs escaping her. I stared speechlessly after her, watching her black ballet flats rush down the hallway, tangling through the mob of people and disappear into the girl's bathroom. An itching, desperate pain chewed my heart, regretting my actions. Looking back, I never would have thought I would be in such a position. I was forced into this shameful act, warned by the football team that they would shave off both of my eyebrows and cut off my eyelashes. How did I let it go this far?

I remembered his years that seemed so far off and distant now, the years of "Mike: Rachel's best friend." We were 12 years old and inseparable.

"Come on, Mike, it's not that hard!" A young Rachel complained, clicking notes far too high for my crackling voice on a pink keyboard. She tapped a shrill, tremendous note carefully, her perfect voice joining in, mingling with the music, "Your turn." I stood up from the cool, summer grass, wiped my pants off and set my hands on his stomach.

"I can do it," I declared, waiting impatiently for Rachel to play a note. My palms were sweaty and cold, the easy wind blowing against them. When she pressed the button down with a thin finger, I joined in a strong, flat voice, not quite hitting the note. Frustrated, Rachel flopped down on the ground, stirring up loose pieces of mowed grass. Her hair was splayed out behind her, unruly strands sticking to her bright yellow cardigan. I mimicked her movement, landing next to her. Our friendship was so natural and free, no pressure at all. It was as easy as a gentle stream pouring over the rocks, trickling down a tall mountain.

"I guess I make it look a little bit too easy. I get it, I am going to be a star one day. I have won 27 singing competitions already. Who can compete with that?" Rachel boasted, rubbing the facts into my face. She groaned, the soft breeze toying with the swaying ends of her dress.

"I guess so," I replied stupidly, being careful not to insult her. Rachel sat up quickly, crossing her legs in front of her.

"Can you believe it?" Rachel blurted, amazed by something. I stared up at her, pulling grass out of the ground absent-mindedly. Rachel smacked my hand away from the grass, annoyed by the sound. No one knew why, but Rachel couldn't stand the sound of grass being ripped up. Probably a bad experience or something.

"Believe what? That the school cheese bounces when you roll it up into a ball and throw it on the ground?" I replied, stifling a laugh. It was true, the fact proven many times before with Matt and Puck, "I'm telling you, Rach. Those cheese sandwiches are nothing but trouble." I warned, pointing a finger at Rachel. She scoffed, but her expression was replaced by a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" Rachel asked, dumbfounded by the tidbit of information. Before I could answer, she continued, "No. Can you believe that such a good friendship resulted out of a cell project?" Rachel smiled brightly at me, excited by the fact. Her smile lifted me up to a place where I liked to be. It was true. At the start of 5th grade, mine and Rachel's teacher paired us up to make a 3D model of an animal cell. Using blue Jell-O, blueberries, a bouncy ball and whatever else we could mash together to resemble a cell, the project was graded and left at the school. The project was left so long, mold started to grow on the surface, leaving a dirty stench hanging in the classroom. After the whole fiasco was over, Rachel noticed potential in me. Not anything she could see or hear, but she could feel it. Something inside her ordered her to go socialize with me, to become friends, lucky for me. I was as awkward as they come. That's what led us to be sitting together in Rachel's backyard, the summer air washing over both of us, "I can't believe it."

"I know," I whispered, trying not to interrupt the sweet memories of both of us, singing, dancing, smiling, laughing...just being best friends. I was the one who had been through it all with her, even the particularly hard days. We both had their fair share of difficult times, struggling free each time. One day stood out the most in my mind, a day that will never be forgotten.

"Best friends forever," Rachel said simply, handing me an intricately woven friendship bracelet that almost matched the one that Rachel wore. Rachel proceeded to explain the story behind each color, "Red represents the cherry, the flavor slushie that was both of our first slushie facials."

In the winter of 6th grade, the tradition of throwing slushies was born. Santana threw a bright red cherry slushie at Rachel and I one day when we were fighting through the busy hallway. I could remember the pained, broken, hideous look in Rachel's crazed eyes as the cherry slush dripped down her hair. I didn't know if it was just the burning sensation you got in your eyes from the slushie, but the look was there.

"Yellow represents the Chinese noodles we tried at your house."

One night that my mom had book club with Rachel's dads, my mom made the average, old noodles she always made on Wednesdays. Instead of brown sugar, which usually goes into the recipe, it was swapped for curry powder, which resided in a similar looking bottle. Rachel was sent screaming through the house, her tounge burned from the spice. It was actually pretty humorous, but I wouldn't show it.

"Black represents music."

Rachel taught me how to sing shortly after they became friends. We worked for hours on end trying to hit the flowing streams of notes spouting from the piano keys. Finally getting the notes somewhat right, we put on a small performance for our parents, impressing them, amazingly. I'll never forget the surprised looks on their faces when they heard the sound that came from both of us.

_ You may say I'm a dreamer, _

_ but I'm not the only one._

_ I hope someday you will join us_

_ and the world will live as one._

"Blue represents you and pink represents me," Rachel finished, tracing the patterns on her own bracelet, beaming at her creation.

"I love it," I replied, wrapping my scrawny arms around Rachel, slipping the bracelet loosely on his wrist, "It's amazing." Rachel and I remained best friends for a long time, until about the middle of 9th grade.

"Mike, have you ever played football?" My gym teacher stopped me after class, staring down at me, questioningly. He ran his hand over his cheek, brushing against the rough, frayed ends of his thin beard.

"No," I replied plainly. I was just a dancer in 9th grade, thin and weak. He wrinkled his eyebrows like he was trying to sort out my face. After a moment of deep thought, he broke his expression.

"I'm signing you up. Practice starts tomorrow at 3:30. Don't be late," Mr. Coplo replied, leaving me dumbfounded in the locker room. I immediately told Rachel, telling her all of the details of the encounter. Rachel twisted her lips to the side uncomfortably in reply, then bit on the bottom one.

"Just be careful. Don't lose who you are," Rachel warned me, patting me solemnly on the shoulder. Turns out, I did exactly what she told me not to do. I started hanging out with the rest of the jocks, built up some muscle and started to do things I'd knew I'd regret. I hooked up with girls I barely knew, slushied countless people and threw my old friends in dumpsters, all because I was forced to. It wasn't me. I was still shy, awkward Mike on the inside, but if I fought back, my high school career would be something that I'd never tell my kids when they grew up. Rachel and I lost contact, barely even looking at each other. My empty heart rattled against it's steel cage, ripping itself apart. I hit a rough patch for a while, where all I wanted to do was cry. Sure, I could have cried. I could have drowned myself in my own sorrows, wallowing in self-pity. That's when I thought about the good it would do. That's right, none. It wouldn't have been worth it if I left my self-respect behind, sobbing until my tear ducts ran out. I just wanted to abandon it all, pull myself together, sloppily super-glue the pieces of myself back together and go back to my best friend, Rachel. The well layed out egg shells were burning under my feet, waiting for me to take a step, itching for me to take a chance. Frightened chains restrained my feet, too scared to move. I just wanted Rachel. That's all I wanted back. That is what led me to be staring down the hallway at the closed girl's bathroom door, red coloring staining the floor. Life was a dance I just couldn't learn the steps to on my own. I tried and tried to get the steps the way I wanted to dance them, but all I did was lunge uncomfortably, pouring slushies all over the girl I wanted back. Maybe I should have just stayed still, paralyzed in my place. I should have nailed myself down, never moving again. I guess sometimes it's better to stay still when you are as terrible as they come. I hated myself. What did I do?

**so, did you like it? i enjoy feedback hahaha! i am so excited for the new glee episode that will be on soonnnn! tuesdays are just not the same without it hahaha i love you guys!**


	2. Unforgiven

**hello, people i miss so much...i haven't posted in a while...but I'll get to that after this...just read it, lovely little puppies.**

After slapping my hands a few times, the gorillas behind me went back where they belonged, leaving me alone in the hallway. Everything was eerie, making me feel like something was going to attack me. My heart ached in my empty chest, a constant reminder that I made a mistake. I missed Rachel and needed things to be right. With this thought, I walked down the hall cautiously and positioned myself to the side of the girl's bathroom door, waiting for Rachel to emerge. My skin prickled as I slid down the wall, settling on the dirty floor. Stubborn, strong hums came from behind the door, finally forming into words. Rachel's voice tearful and powerful, each word hitting me hard.

_You treat me just like another stranger_

_ Well, it's nice to meet you, sir._

_ I guess I'll go, I best be on my way out._

_ Ignorance is your new best friend,_

_ Ignorance is your new best friend._

Her voice was mixed with shattering sobs and the soft drip of water on the cold marble counters. Paper ripped and Rachel's singing slowed to a stop. Unstable, gentle hums still came from the room, followed by the clicking of shoes. I stood up quickly, having a mini-heart attack. My eyes darted around the hall, finally landing on the heavy, wooden door, dressed up with a cheesy motivational poster. Rachel poked her head out of the door, hair dripping, forming tiny puddles on the floor. Her expression looked alarm, her eyes bloodshot. The dark brown color stood out on it's pink background. After inspecting her surroundings, Rachel stepped out of the bathroom, finally discovering me.

"Rachel," I whispered, grabbing loosely on her thin arm. Panic spread across her face, trying to fight out of my grip, "Rachel." I repeated as she shook out of my hands, standing in front of me.

"What do you want? Do you want to throw another slushie at me? Why don't you just take my soul and put it into your...your...bag of souls," Rachel stumbled, trying to insult me. Her eyes inspected my expression, trying to compose herself. After a few silent moments, Rachel scoffed at me. She started to turn and spat, "Your pathetic." The venom in her words twisted my heart uncomfortably.

"Rachel, hear me out," I started. Rachel crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. It was a start, at least, "I'm so sorry. I never meant for anything to get this far. They were going to cut off all of my body hair, including my eyebrows and eyelashes," I stumbled. Rachel rolled her eyes as I continued, "Rachel, look, I really miss when we were little. I miss the days when it was okay to talk to you without getting in trouble by the football monsters. I wish I could go back to 9th grade and change everything I did, including joining the football team. I can't do anything I want. It's like being trapped in my own pastime. Rachel, I want to be friends again, please, give me a chance." I ended, talking animatedly with my hands. I stuttered on most of my words, but I made it through the explanation. Rachel's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. She grabbed my wrist, studying it carefully.

"The bracelet," She breathed, staring at the friendship bracelet that lay limply on my arm. As quickly as it came, Rachel twisted her face back in disappointment, "Look, Mike. I appreciate you trying to patch things up with me, but I have moved on to bigger and better things that DON'T involve you." Rachel's eyes welled back up, the tears balancing carefully on the rims. She started to walk briskly away, wiping her tears away with a hurt hand. I stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the girl that I just poured my heart out to. My hot breath washed over my dry lips, the air tangling in my lungs. My body burned in embarrassment, blood like lava pulsing under my skin. The words wouldn't form sentences in my scrambled brain, leaving me illiterate at the moment. My feet started to chase Rachel down the hallway, stopping her in her tracks. I glanced into her crazed eyes and did something that I never thought I would do. I leaned over, kissing Rachel awkwardly. I won't lie, it was weird. Rachel was my former best friend, not a girl that I was in love with. It was a nice kiss, but it was kind of like kissing a cousin or a sister.

"GET OFF OF ME!" Rachel shrieked, pulling back her hand. I tried to duck to miss Rachel's swing, but her open hand contacted my face, grinding my teeth together, "DON'T TOUCH ME AND NEVER, EVER KISS ME AGAIN!" Rachel sprinted away from me, too quickly to see where she went. My cheek was on fire, feeling the outline of Rachel's hand. I heard a distant slam down the hallway. Unhooking the frayed ends of my old, dirty friendship bracelet, filled to the top with memories, the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I held my hand, bracelet hanging loosely off of my fingers, above the silver garbage can that was sitting in the hallway. The yarn sat intently on my fingertips, refusing to move. My hand wouldn't let me leave her behind, no matter what I did to mess things up.

That night was awful. My brain screamed all night, not letting me forget my problems for one second. I didn't know why I kissed Rachel. I didn't like her like that. I just felt like I needed to do something drastic, anything to make her be my friend again. All I did was make her never want to lay eyes on me again, and I didn't blame her. I wanted to take back that kiss, never to happen again. It was Thanksgiving break, so it was a bittersweet vacation. I didn't want to face Rachel, but I felt like I had to. One part of me needed her, but the other part never wanted to see her again.

"Mike," My mom whispered to me, handing me a letter. She was silent, like the letter would hear her if she wasn't quiet enough. I examined the letter, a pale pink envelope, decorated with a tiny, glittery flower up the side. My address was written neatly on the front, marked with spots where the pen was pressed on to the envelope just a bit too hard. The "m" in "Mike" was traced over several times, each time making a deeper impact. 2 stamps with sleeping kittens on them were peeling on the edges, sloppily slammed on to the envelope's outside. I opened the paper delicately with my thumb, careful not to rip anything. Staring at the matching pink paper, I read the thoughts that were lingering there.

_Dear Mike,_

_ We sure have been through a lot together, haven't we? The good, the bad, the in-between. We sang together, laughed together and were just happy to be together. That's what made...this...so painful. I had always thought I knew what it was like to feel alone, but when you slushied me, I knew I was wrong. Now, I know what it's like to be alone. No friends, no one to love. I did want to be friends with you, I really did, but I think you just made sure that didn't happen. Kissing me was like swiping the idea of being friends again off of the table. I can't forgive you, Mike. I can't forgive you for hurting me so badly, acting like you care, and taking advantage of me. The hardest part about it is that I love you, and no matter how hard my heart is fighting for me to not send this letter and patch things up, my brain simply can't. I can't let my stupid, teenage heart make stupid desicions for me. That's why I am leaving WMHS. I don't know where I am going and how long I will be gone, but I will assure you, you will never have to see me again. Some things are just best left unforgiven. Don't try to chase me, don't try to call me, don't try to find me...don't miss me, because I won't miss you._

_ ~Rachel_

Dried tears dotted the letter like punctuation, mixed in with my own, painful and desperate. I couldn't have her gone, but I knew if I fought, she wouldn't want me back anyway.

_I won't miss you._

The words were powerful and meaningful. I knew she meant it. Everything in the letter screamed at me to leave her alone. Something inside told me to let her fly. Maybe, when all of the dust is settled, she would come back to this town. Maybe, Rachel would come back to this unforgiving, broken town. I loved her, too, not like she knew, but I knew I did. I loved her, so I'd let her go.

_Some things are best left unforgiven._

**okay, so, let me explain. on wednesday, i had to study for a geography exam...the kind where it's 5 pages long and over 90 questions. i had too much homework to get to anything. i was buried in homework again on thursday, so by the time i was done, i had to sleep. last night, i had this all written, but the website wasn't working, so that wasn't my fault haha...anyway, i love you guys...i really do. you make my nights...please forgive me? hahaha**


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